


Equitamus aut Mori

by MaeveElemora



Series: Ride or Die [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, I chewed up some of my favorite fandoms and prompts and spit out this smorgasbord, Lincoln Lawyer!AU, Smut, Sons of Anarchy!AU, Violence, biker!AU, it took a mega AU to get Galya to follow Bethesda's mom canon go figure, listen we'll get there, morals so sketchy they were drawn by hand, not a slow burn but not a fast one either I guess???, professional to sexual to disGUSTINGLY in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 14:57:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20508902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaeveElemora/pseuds/MaeveElemora
Summary: The Commonwealth Alliance had been the perfect plan. The four major powers of Boston all playing nice with each other, working together, and following the direction of the Guardians of Anarchy Motorcycle Club. More specifically, the direction of their President who, in turn, would follow the direction of Porter Gage himself.But things never go as planned and lazy sacks of shit get what's coming to them.Now that Colter's dead, Porter is left with no choice but to step into the line of fire, with bullseyes painted on both heads, if he wants to keep his dreams of a criminal empire intact. His greatest weapon? The Russian bombshell that's been scooping the asses of his fellow malefactors out of the judicial frying pan for years.Galya Petrovna is a Marine prodigy turned rebellious attorney who's been hardened, and sharpened, by the losses in her life. She lost motivation to keep her head above moral highwater long ago, preferring to stick to the simpler code of karma her мамуля raised her on. These days, her only remaining interests are providing for her chosen family and being the best goddamn defense attorney in Boston.





	Equitamus aut Mori

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be using my Pinterest board and some in-game mods I'm in the process of developing to keep me motivated. You can track their progress here:  
https://pin.it/caw4kutfyo5vlf  
https://www.nexusmods.com/users/73584088?tab=user+files
> 
> For anyone who hasn't read/watched Lincoln Lawyer, this opening chapter is gonna feel like it's missing some chunks. I wanted to get the main plot points of the Lincoln Lawyer aspect out of the way. I tried to provide enough description of the important happenings that I skipped over so anyone who hasn't read/watched can still sort of get what's going on. I promise this will be the only time in the fic that I do skips like this.
> 
> For those who are familiar with Lincoln Lawyer, you'll notice some changes/discrepancies I used for plot sake.
> 
> May the great and powerful multi-chapter fic writers of our time grant me strength. I'm gonna fuckin' need it.

"Ms. Petrovna, we have company."

Galya can tell exactly who's coming up behind her even before her eyes lazily make it up to the rearview. A Harley motorcade has its own unique roar to it, after all, and there's only one group of riders that would be bothering to make their way through midtown to track her down.

_He works faster than Colter, I'll give him that._

Porter Gage. Newly crowned king of Boston's Most Wanted. An alliance and permanent ceasefire between the Guardians of Anarchy, the Pack, the Disciples, and the Operators. An agreement like that holds the kind of power that gang leaders have wet dreams about, but it's inherently volatile.

Deacon has been keeping an eye on the shifting hierarchy for Galya, and oh boy, has there been some intel to find recently. It was no secret that Gage had been the one to push the original leader, Colter, into power. It was equally known that he'd been less than pleased by Colter's lack of results. Apparently, the Guardian's golden boy had been more interested in playing with his garage toys than running the empire that Gage had served on a silver platter.

Galya had to give Gage credit where it was due, though. Rather than let the kingdom crumble, Gage had stepped up and taken the reigns after Colter's _unfortunate_ and sudden passing. It had to have been nervewracking, stepping into everyone's crosshairs when confidence was at an all-time low, but Porter Gage had taken up the President patch all the same.

And now here he is, crawling up the ass of Galya's Rolls Royce, his hounds closing in on her flank in that overly dramatic fashion bikers seem to love.

"Would you like me to handle this, ma'am?" Xavier asks from the driver's seat.

"No," Galya replies calmly, continuing to shift through the file in her lap. "Keep on track."

She knows what this is about, of course. Not even an hour ago, Harold "Hard Case" Casey, a primary producer for the Pack, had tried to bullshit her into an I-O-U payment. Galya had responded proportionately and had the case put on indefinite hold, leaving Harold to twiddle his thumbs in County while she waited for her dues. The fact that the Guardian's new President managed to find her this easily is honestly impressive, but it doesn't change the facts; Galya Petrovna does not work for free, and she does _not_ scare easy. If Porter Gage thinks he can intimidate her, he has a very critical lesson to learn.

She hears the bike closest to her tailgate move to her left window and looks over in time to see Gage himself pointing towards an upcoming parking lot.

"Ma'am," Xavier prompts again.

Galya resists the urge to roll her eyes. Showing up to a high-profile client meeting trailed by angry bikers would _not_ be a great first impression to make. "Alright. Pull over up here."

As Xavier pulls the car off the road, Galya closes up her files and gets herself comfortable. Getting to take the new leader for a spin was going to be an interesting interruption, at least. Colter had been such an empty pushover that maneuvering her way to a higher bill hadn't registered enough of a challenge to be fun.

Galya has seen Gage a handful of times before, but even now a small, undeniable thrill flashes through her at the sight of him dismounting his Harley and sauntering his way over to her window. At over six and a half feet, and packing what has to be well over two-hundred pounds of muscle, Porter Gage gives off one hell of an aura. And that's before the tattoos and patch over his eye are taken into account.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Gage?" Galya asks as Gage rests an arm on her roof and leans down into her space.

"Well, counselor, Mason's boy Harold called from the pen. Said you're stallin' his case until you see some more green."

"I don't work without payment."

"We paid you already. Five grand."

"Five grand that I've already used, Mr. Gage." Galya crosses her leg under her skirt and puts on her best bored, mothering tone. "If you'd like the sort of breakdown Mr. Colter was usually too busy to hear, I can tell you that I went to an aerial-photo expert. He's going to blow the state's case by proving that the DEA violated the airspace over Harold's farm by flying too low. I can also tell you that I have to fly this expert in from California and put him up in a hotel to get him to testify."

Gage crouches down until he's eye level with Galya. "This aerial photo expert. Mr. Green. He wouldn't happen to be related to the Andrew Green that lives in Everette, would he?"

_Well, I'll be damned._

Getting caught in a lie at the start of any new business relationship is bad form. But getting caught trying to cheat a biker out to prove his mettle, that's dangerous. Honestly, it's Galya's own fault for underestimating him. After all, someone had to have been the brains behind the gang alliance.

Before Galya can even try to bullshit her way out of Gage's call on her bluff, the biker continues. "Look, I respect your hustle. Hell, I'm lookin' forward to using it to my advantage as we continue to work together. And fuck knows Colter had it coming given how fuckin' incompetent he was. But I ain't Colter, so lets cut the shit. What do you need to finish this out?"

Galya doesn't respond immediately. This man has... interesting tactics to say the least. He could have easily fallen back on typical outlaw behavior and threatened to kill her for trying to extort him. But instead of pressing the massive advantage she'd foolishly given him, he builds a middle ground. He offers a chance to rebuild their arrangement from the ground up, even takes the risk of letting her continue to name the terms.

"Two grand," she finally says, giving Gage an appreciative once over.

"Sounds fair to me," he agrees amicably, reaching into his kutte's inner pocket to pull out a stack of envelopes. He pulls two from the top and hands them in through the window. "So long as Harold gets back to the farm soon."

Without bothering to open them, Galya slides the envelopes into the purse at her hip. "I'll have him home as fast as the system allows."

"You're not gonna count it?"

"I can trust you, can't I, Mr. Gage." There's no inflection in her tone and there's the barest hint of a smirk on the corner of her lips.

Gage gives her a wink with his good eye. "If that fails you, you know where I live." He pounds his fist on the roof of her Rolls Royce twice before heading back to his bike.

"We can go now, X," Galya says as the Guardians all begin to rev up around her.

_I'll have to let Deacon know that the throne isn't so empty after all._

\---

  
_Fuck_ bikers. Fuck dealers, pushers, mercenaries, and every dipshit crime boss that thinks their shit don't stink.

And _fuck_ paperwork with a fuckin' rust-coated cactus.

"Somebody go dig up Colter so I can kill him again," Gage growls. Shank snorts from the other side of the desk. If Gage didn't respect the fuck out of his VP, he'd smack him for it. But Gage _does_ respect him, and the guy's been pretty fuckin' indispensable lately, so Gage quells the urge.

Besides, it ain't fair to take out his frustrations on Shank. Not his fault Gage was dumb enough to try uniting the biggest collection of no-good assholes in Boston. Yeah, Gage had been the one to get himself into this mess. And now he's the one who has to unfuck it all.

"Don't have enough energy to go diggin' up dead arseholes," Cait chimes in from his left, "what with all time we're wastin' on other people's biddin'."

"First of all," Gage says with a smack to the back of her head, "you know better than to pick a fight with me. It'll get physical, I'll _win_, and you'll be pissy for weeks."

"Keep dreamin', geezer."

"_Second_ of all, fixin' everyone's problems is how we start fixin' our own."

And ho-ly fuck is there a lot of problems to fix.

The Pack's main cook got brought home thanks to Petrovna, but some punk-ass little crew runnin' out of Southie weaseled their way into Pack territory during the lull in production. Mason, in true dumbass, alpha male fashion, wants to send his dogs to wipe them out completely. That'd be fine and dandy if Gage could actually trust them to do it quiet. But knowing the Pack, they'd make it a spectacle just to send a louder message.

A spectacle on the edge of Southie would put a _lot_ of uniforms on the edge of Back Bay. That happens, Vice gets the perfect excuse to start circling Operator territory. And god help them all if Mags Black ever thinks she's gettin' shafted. Crazy rich cunt. She'd set herself on fire just to burn anyone who crossed her.

And the Disciples. Sweet fuckin' Christ, the _Disciples_. Bringing them into the fold meant fighting and bargaining with bondsmen, rival merc companies, homicide cops, assault cops, missing persons cops, the list goes fuckin' on. Nisha _could_ have handled most of the messages and paperwork, sure. But saddling Gage with it all was her own petty form of punishment for dragging her into this shitstorm in the first place.

Really, it was all enough to make a guy go nuts.

"We'll get it done, boss," Shank assures, ever the optimist.

Gage hopes the guy is right, he really does. But goddamn, it's gettin' harder to think of ways where this doesn't all end with their brains smeared on the clubhouse walls. If this all goes to shit, Gage will be the primary target, but the club in its entirety will pay the price. His boys won't ever let him die alone, the stubborn sons of bitches.

A swift knock on his office door pulls Gage out of his wallowing. "Yeah, what is it?"

"Hey, boss," comes RedEye's greeting as he pokes his head in. "Hot lawyer just rolled in. Says she needs to talk to you alone."

Gage turns to check his clock. _12:09 am_. Too late for a professional visit. Has to be personal. And there's only one personal matter Galya Petrovna would chance a late-night drive through Dorchester to discuss; The attempted murder of her right-hand man, Deacon Jones.

As far as Gage knows, the PI is still in the hospital recovering from some unknown asshole's attempt on his life. Shank had assured Gage that no one in their syndicate was involved. Given Petrovna's sudden appearance, Gage is starting to have his doubts.

"I thought you said--" Gage starts, but Shank cuts him off.

"I _did_. We weren't in on Deacon's hit, boss. I even offered to help her find answers. She told me she had it covered."

"Fuck me," Gage mutters under his breath. "Yeah, bring her on back, Red. You two, give us some space."

As his crew files out of his office and he waits for Petrovna to make her way in, Gage takes a minute to collect himself. He ain't exactly nervous around her. No one's ever actually managed that. But fuck there's somethin' about her. She's got the prissy lawyer appearance down pat, but he's never _once_ seen her look put off or unnerved by the local crowd around here. She just keeps up that same confident serenity of hers, no matter who's in her face.

When she comes through his doorway, Gage almost doesn't recognize her. Her hair's down, for starters, and the usual makeup is nowhere to be seen. Her face looks sharper without it, weirdly enough. All high cheekbones and straight jawline.

The tight t-shirt and jeans outfit ain't doin' Gage's concentration any favors.

"What brings you here so late, Counselor?"

"I find myself in need of your clubs services," Petrovna answers, setting herself down in the chair across from Gage.

"Decided to take us up on Shank's investigation?"

"No, actually. While I still appreciate the offer, I knew who attacked Deacon before Shank reached out."

"So, what can we do for you, then?"

Petrovna sighs and leans forward against the desk. Gage doesn't think she's doing it intentionally, more than likely she really _is_ tired, but it pushes her tits up against her arms beautifully.

_Focus, asshole._

"I believe the man who attacked Deacon is going to try to come after my son," Petrovna explains. "Tomorrow afternoon, if the plan I've made actually works out. I'll be there to stop him, but I need you and your boys to give him a reason to not come back."

Gage nods. It's an easy enough job. And hell, if shit goes wrong, their lawyer's already on scene to bail them out. "You mind givin' me a name?"

"Louis Roulet."

"I'm sorry, you wanna run that by me again?" Gage has heard of the guy, sure. Fuckers name has been all over the news since the story broke that he beat the hell out of some hooker. But Petrovna's _representing him_. Gage is no professional or anything, but defending the guy who attempted to kill your partner and then hiring someone to beat the fuck out of him sounds like bad business.

"I'm bound by law to defend my clients to the best of my ability, regardless of whether or not I know them to be guilty."

"So when the law ties your hands--"

"I go to the outlaw holding a switchblade."

Gage lets out a genuine laugh. "Well, well. I heard you were crooked, Ms. Petrovna. It's fun to see first hand, though."

"Normally I'd seek my revenge within the confines of the law. But Roulet went after Deacon, and he's made it clear he's going to go after my son. When someone comes for my family, the law no longer concerns me."

"I can definitely get behind that."

Gage pauses for a moment to let himself think. This provides a pretty nice opportunity to wipe the slate between them clean. He meant what he said the last time he saw her. Her particular brand of maneuvering and manipulation could come in real fuckin' handy for cleaning up the bed he's made. Maybe if he scratches her back, she'll start treating him with the respect Colter never earned.

"Well, you've got my number. Consider us on call. We'll be there when and where you need us."

Petrovna arches an eyebrow at him. "That's it?"

Yeah, she definitely came her expecting him to name a price.

"What?" Gage lets his drawl out a little more than usual as he drops his voice. "You lookin' for a nightcap before you go?"

She scoffs at him, but it ain't unkind. "No, thank you. I've got an early court appearance."

"Suit yourself." He reaches into the bottom drawer of his desk to pull out a glass and a bottle of Southern Comfort as she gets up to leave. "Safe travels, counselor."

"Goodnight, Mr. Gage." She stops halfway out the door to turn and give him a look. There's somethin' calculating about it, but it doesn't feel cold. "I'm looking forward to working with you."

Gage raises his glass to her with a sly grin. "To the spirit of partnership."

  
\--

Tracking someone down can be a tricky thing. Tracking someone down knowing where they just came from, where they're going, and the exact make and model of the luxury car they're riding in is decidedly not.

Gage had meant to catch Galya before she left Mass General, but a shitstorm between Nisha and a group of out of state bounty hunters had taken up most of his week. Now he's got no choice but to play street tag just to fit in a business meeting. He could do this over the phone, sure, but putting in the effort for face-to-face can go a long way.

Plus, Gage is _always_ down to lay eyes on Galya Petrovna.

He and the rest of the road crew manage to catch up to her Rolls Royce before it crosses into Brookline. Miraculously enough, she doesn't make him tail her for six fuckin' blocks this time. Before Gage can even pull up to her side, the car's already making its way into a breakdown lane.

Maybe she is finally startin' to respect him.

Gage can see an additional person behind the driver's seat as he dismounts and heads for the car. As he gets close, he realizes it's Deacon.

"Y'all get a group rate for checkin' out together or somethin'?" Gage asks as he leans down into Galya's open window.

"Punch card, actually," Deacon offers up around a mouthful of Big Mac. "Two more visits and we get a free smoothie."

"What can I do for you, Mr. Gage?" Galya sounds tired but victorious, her body language relaxed as could be with her bare foot propped up against the front passenger seat. The spittin' image of a prizefighter that just won back their title. The cocky smile looks damn good on her.

"Looks like you took a helluva hit," Gage says, nodding towards her arm sling. There's some gauze above the line of her shirt, but other than that she doesn't look too rough.

"Happens," she replies with an easy shrug.

"You really shoot your client's mother?" Shank had gotten him a copy of the police report, but Gage was still baffled by it all.

Mary Windsor, Louis Roulet's loving mother, had broken into Galya's house that night the Guardian's had beaten the hell out of Louis. When Galya had turned to reach for her phone to call the cops, the crazy bitch had pulled a gun. More specifically, the gun that she'd used to shoot one Deacon Jones the week before. Seems no one had ever taught Ms. Windsor that you do not fuck with Russians. _Especially_ Russian women.

Apparently, Galya had corrected that when she put three rounds into the old crone.

Galya gives him a smile that's all teeth. "My oath to serve to the best of my ability only goes so far. When people start shooting at me, I'm legally allowed to defend myself."

"Well," Gage says with a chuckle, "I'll keep that in mind. And I'm glad you're better, 'cause Mason's boy Harold, 'ol Hard Case--"

"Don't tell me."

"Yeah, he got caught with 50 kilos in his girlfriend's minivan. Girlfriend's some cops wife."

"That does _not_ help."

"No, it doesn't. You're the only help he's got." Gage lets his shades drop below his sightline to lock eyes with Galya. "_Counselor_."

An amused huff passes through her nose. "Alright. Call me with the details."

"Gotta say, with the way things went down, I think we earned a little discount. Say... half your fee."

She'd been expecting a price that night she'd asked for his help, and he's finally giving it to her. More than that, he's giving her a test of precedence. There are too many variables on Gage's board right now. He's gotta know the limits of this newfound 'partnership' between them, and he's gotta know them sooner rather than later. If she's still intent on bargaining after all this, he'll know going forward that she's another player to account for rather than a trusted part of his arsenal. If she plays along, starts givin' him some breathing room, he can see about using her for some of his more sensitive dealings.

That bright, white smile makes a return trip as Galya locks eyes with Gage. "Tell you what, Porter. How about I do this one for free?"

If the words themselves weren't enough to rock him on his feet, the wink she follows them up with sure as hell is.

Gage manages to keep his surprise from showing (_mostly_) and meets her eyes past his shades one more time. "I feel like you're startin' to get this whole spirit of partnership, Gal."

He gives her a two-finger point, then pushes off the roof of her Rolls Royce to right himself. As he makes his way back to his bike, he can just make out the soft sound of her laughter before her driver turns her music back up.

All Gage can think as she drives away is that, yeah, Marvin Gaye's _Trouble Man_ is a real good fit on her.

**Author's Note:**

> _I didn't make it sugar, playin' by the rules_
> 
> Now that we've got the big, boring backstory out of the way, I can stop skipping over canon movie scenes I don't want to rewrite and start getting into detail!!!
> 
> I've got a storyline for this _vaguely_ mapped out, but suggestions and requests for it are more than welcome. I'm also planning on doing sidepieces for this AU whenever the inspo strikes, so if you've got a prompt/idea you'd like to see for this setting, let me know!
> 
> As always, comments, feedback, and suggestions are always welcome <3


End file.
